


the art of heartbreak

by orphan_account



Series: within these walls [2]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Death of a Parent, F/F, Implied Cheating, Mourning, i love them but they have to suffer, pre-hangover cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fallon and Kirby break up.
Relationships: Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Series: within these walls [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667247
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Silence blanketed the house like thick dark smoke. Dregs of strong summer sun filtered through the gap in the drawn drapes. Kirby sat on her mother’s living room floor, cross-legged. She hadn’t slept. Nightmares of what should have been pressed down on her throat, impeding her airflow every time she closed her eyes longer than a blink. She resorted to morning television instead.

She stared at the clock on the bottom left corner of the TV. Seven forty-two. The air hung heavy around her without the steady stream of hospice nurses coming in and out of the house, and her aunts grieving prematurely. She hated it. The quiet only amplified her mind screaming for time to come to a stop, only for a second, so she could think straight. She hated it almost as much as she hated the sterile smell clinging to all the furniture and curtains in the house It didn’t smell like home anymore; not of lavender and her grandmother’s homemade perfume. It didn’t look like home either. Someone had scrubbed the cup rings from the coffee table; hidden her sisters’ collection of Disney videotapes in the cupboard under the stairs.

Her only source of comfort slipped from around her shoulders when she looked up at the morning talk show she was too tired to recognise or pay any attention to. The blanket Kirby had stolen from her girlfriend before she left lay in a pool on the carpet behind her. She picked it up again and laid it over her lap - not that she needed it in the almost thirty-degree May heat - but it smelled of Fallon’s perfume, and it was the only thing keeping her sane. It was worth the earful she’d get when she spoke to her next - if that day ever came.

Kirby’s phone buzzed from the coffee table behind her. She braced herself for yet another condolence letter from someone she hadn’t spoken to since she was twelve. But, alas, it was her girlfriend. Again.

 ** _Fallon:_** _We need to talk._

They did. They hadn’t - not properly - in seven months, despite Fallon’s best efforts. Kirby had tried to contact her girlfriend countless times, her thumb hovering over the call button for minutes at a time before her confidence shattered and she turned her phone off and hid it in the drawer of her bedside table. She’d drafted twelve emails in total, each longer and more rambling than the one previous to try to explain herself articulately. She couldn’t. She’d tried so many times to talk to Fallon, but she physically could not bring herself to do it. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? It had been _seven months_. Too long to start up a conversation and pretend everything was fine when it was far from.

She typed out a reply she didn’t send. Fallon deserved more than a text or even a phone call. She deserved a conversation in person, but, with their circumstances, a Skype call would have to do.

Kirby stood from the floor, her legs half-asleep. She pulled Fallon’s blanket back around her shoulders and made her way into the kitchen. Her mother’s empty medication bottles sat in a neat row next to the sink, their labels picked off and the residue scrubbed clean. Her stepfather had already gotten rid of everything. Only thirteen hours later. 

She made coffee she wouldn’t drink and cereal she wouldn’t eat. Her appetite had disappeared days ago.

Her legs carried her through the hallway and upstairs without instruction. She closed her eyes and held her breath, ignoring her increased heart rate and the burning in her lungs, as she passed her mother’s bedroom on the way to her own. It was too soon to look at it. Or even think about it. She closed her door behind her and opened her eyes to her room, cloaked in darkness. The curtains were drawn, as they were in every other room in the house. Aunt Sandy had insisted; something about privacy. Kirby didn’t remember.

She sat on her bed and crossed her legs under herself, taking her laptop onto her knees. Fallon was already trying to Skype her when she opened it.

It was almost nine o’clock in the evening in Atlanta. Fallon should have gotten home from work by now and be eating dinner. Kirby checked and discovered it was her fifth attempted call of the day. Guilt gnawed at her heart at the thought of her girlfriend so desperate in trying to talk to her.

“Hey,” the redhead greeted, her voice low, as Fallon’s picture materialised onto the screen. She was still at work and looked exhausted. She seemed surprised Kirby answered. The sky bled carmine through the large window behind her, the sun sinking behind a building.

“Hi,” Fallon said with a tight, sympathetic smile. She paused for a moment, cracking her fingers and surveying Kirby’s image, before continuing. “How’s your mom?”

Kirby said nothing for almost a minute, her gaze moving from the screen to the worn keyboard. Tears pooled in her eyes, waiting to fall when she looked up again. She took a deep breath as she opened her mouth to speak. She kept her eyes down and shook her head, worried saying it aloud would make it real.

“She passed last night,” she said, her voice tiny to prevent it from cracking. Her hands found her face and wiped the tears collecting on her chin and the end of her nose. She had cried in front of Fallon so many times, yet embarrassment swelled inside her, mingling with the empty sadness. It didn’t seem fair to cry after what she put her girlfriend through for the last seven months.

“Oh my God,” the brunette said, choking on her own tears. She shook her head. This didn’t feel real to her, either. “I didn’t realise she was that sick… How are you feeling?”

“We knew it was terminal from November, but we only found out it had spread to her lungs last week. She deteriorated really quickly,” Kirby said after a beat - after she’d calmed herself down enough to talk to without blubbering. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.”

She didn’t answer Fallon’s question. She didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t feel anything. Her whole body was numb; unfeeling. Nothing but the emptiness and the need to cry when she thought about it. The news hadn’t been as earth-shattering as she had expected, but she wasn’t sure she’d processed it yet. Her stomach lurched and her mind screamed at her to stop every time she tried to think about it. She didn’t _want_ to wrap her head around it. She shrugged her shoulders, where the blanket still lay, and looked up again, but her focus still fell on everything but Fallon’s image on her laptop screen.

“Do you need me to come?” The brunette asked, her voice shaking. Kirby knew the last thing her girlfriend wanted was to hop on a plane to the other side of the world and cry with her, but the offer was a relief. She didn’t have to ask her to come.

“Only if that’s okay.”

“Of course, yes. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I promise,” Fallon said with a nod and no hesitation, wiping her eyes. There was a minute-long pause where they sniffled and finally made eye contact again. “I miss you.”

Kirby wished she’d talked to Fallon more. She would have been there already, warming up to her aunts and fending off her cousins who liked gently bullying the redhead regardless of the circumstances and helping look after Darcy and Rorey, even though they were old enough to look after themselves. That was the way their relationship was supposed to be - them together. Not whatever they were doing now.

“I know. I missed you too. So much.”

Kirby missed everything about Fallon. The way she put too much creamer in coffee; the way her eyes lit up when someone complimented her shoes; the way her fingers played with the ends of Kirby’s hair when they lay in bed at night, talking about their days or bickering over what to watch. It was strange to see her, face-to-face - even if it was just over Skype. But, it needed to stop. It was becoming too much for the redhead.

“I think Thomas just got home, so I should probably go. I’ll let you get back to work. I love you.”

There was another pause. Kirby pretended they had a bad connection, praying they had a bad connection - that Fallon hadn’t fallen out of love. The hesitation made her want to vomit. She wouldn’t love her either had the roles been reversed.

“I love you, too.”

The call ended. The redhead stared at her reflection in the black screen and let herself break down. She’d held herself together in front of Fallon. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t allow the brunette to see her cry. It wasn’t fair. She folded her arms over herself and exhaled, desperate to console herself. Crying would not help anything.

The house stood still and soundless around her as her breathing stabilised and her sobs became fruitless hiccoughs. Her loneliness trampled her, knocking her over without warning. Her body ached for her girlfriend’s embrace, the one she’d left behind seven months before.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_Fallon walked into their bedroom and sat down next to Kirby, her hands trailing over the closed case in front of them. Her gaze danced from her girlfriend to the open door of the redhead’s empty closet. The brunette closed her eyes and nodded her head, her hands sliding along the sides of her cheeks. She pressed her lips into a fine line as she allowed her gaze to meet the other woman’s._

_“Please tell me you aren’t leaving,” she said, her voice shaking and her tone afraid._

_Kirby shook her head no. “I’m not leaving you,” she promised, taking Fallon’s hand from her face and took it in her own. “I have to go home.”_

_The brunette looked away and said nothing. She made no attempt to move, letting Kirby hold her hand, and sat with her, silent. She couldn’t believe this. A discontented sigh came a few moments later, as the redhead, startled, jumped an inch beside her._

_Kirby opened her mouth to say something but closed it again. She nibbled the skin on her bottom lip and her gaze dropped to her hands fidgeting in her lap. She wasn’t even going to explain. Dread crawled from Fallon’s sternum and clawed its way to settle as a lump in the back of her throat, disrupting her airflow and making her dizzy. She was never going to see Kirby again, was she?_

_“How long will you be gone for?” Fallon asked after five minutes of dead silence. She still didn’t look at Kirby; her head tilted towards the bedroom door. She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest when her skin burned from the redhead’s touch. She wished it burned from anger, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel the emotion._

_“Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t really know the details, either,” Kirby said with her own disgruntled exhale, her hand still lying in the spot where it had interlaced with the other woman’s a moment ago. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know something, okay?”_

_Fallon nodded, but felt nothing short of bitter as she returned her gaze to her girlfriend. The thin line of her lips became a grimace, and her eyes glazed over with a mixture of sadness and irritation. “When do you leave?”_

_“The day after tomorrow.”_

_Fallon’s heart shattered into a billion tiny pieces and her face fell, merely for a second, before she set her jaw and tightened the elastic around her high ponytail. She cracked her fingers and stood from the floor again, her nose in the air, slamming the door shut behind her._

* * *

  
  


Kirby’s phone let out a _ping_ as she rubbed the tears from her eyes. She picked it up, her grip unsteady. Another condolence from someone she barely knew. She replied with a brief thank you and told them she was holding up fine. Jeremy from across the road didn’t need to know her life was crumbling down around her.

She opened the Instagram app for the first time in weeks, the direct message icon flaming red. Twenty-six new chats in her inbox. She had a feeling every single one of them was from Fallon. Remorse burned hot in her throat when she opened one to find threads of messages longer than a piece of string. She was right. All of them were from Fallon.

 **_@falloncarrington:_ ** _I saw your recent, are you okay?_

 **_@falloncarrington:_ ** _Rorey told me about your mom. Please answer._

 **_@falloncarrington:_ ** _I hope you know I’m here for you. No matter what. I love you._

Kirby didn’t answer one of them. It was too late now, four months had passed since Fallon sent the last one. Instead, she clicked on the brunette’s profile. It surprised her to see Fallon had almost a million followers and was verified. That was new. The fact her girlfriend was semi-famous - at least back in Georgia - never failed to catch Kirby off-guard. To her, the brunette was just Fallon.

The last photo posted was of the two of them the year before. Kirby knew them to have been extraordinarily drunk, but both looked decently sober despite Fallon piggybacking Kirby and the ridiculous grins splitting their faces.

 **_@falloncarrington:_ ** _Missing my best friend and partner in crime_ **_@kirbyanders1_ **

Kirby hadn’t even liked it. The brunette posted it more than a month ago. Fallon had been just as absent from social media as the redhead. Great, Kirby had ruined her girlfriend’s life just as much as she’d ruined her own.

She read the caption again, _‘my best friend’_ burning into her eyes. Right. _Best friends._ She’d almost forgotten about Fallon’s refusal to come out. Kirby scrolled down further, photos of Monica and Steven and the friends Fallon claimed to deplore rushing past until she got to the last photo she’d liked. Four months ago, promoting a spread in some magazine with Fallon on the front cover.

Kirby’s stomach curled in on itself, twisting until more tears rose in her eyes. She powered off her phone and set it face-down next to her. The ache in her chest intensified, spreading outwards until her body went from completely devoid of any feeling to completely overwhelmed with emotional pain in less than a minute. She grew hot, perspiration sticking her hair to her forehead, and she pulled the blanket from around her shoulders and threw it to the floor in an unceremonious heap.

She had to get out of her room. She had to get out of the house. Everything she didn’t have anymore haunted her with every breath she took. She had to get out.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The slam of the front door echoed around the front hall as her stepfather, Thomas, came home for the first time since the ambulance had carted him and Kirby’s mother off to the hospital fifteen hours before. Deep purple rings lay under his bloodshot eyes. He hadn’t slept either. Her two younger sisters came trailing in after him, their hands joined and their focus on their shuffling feet.

Kirby stood from the couch and enveloped each of them in a hug, their aching hearts beating in time with hers as their bodies pressed together. Rorey, the youngest, sniffled and buried her head into her older sister’s shoulder, her small frame shivering as she tried to even her breaths.

“I don’t like this,” she whispered, her hands clinging to the material of Kirby’s pyjama shirt. “I hate it, actually.”

“I know, babes. I hate it too,” Kirby said, closing her eyes when the thirteen-year-old showed no signs of pulling away from her. She rubbed her sister’s back as the shivers became shudders, squeezing her eyes shut to keep her own tears at bay. She didn’t need to break down in front of them. That would only make things worse.

Thomas left the room when Kirby finally pried Rorey off of her. Darcy sat on the floor in the metre-wide gap between the sofa and the wall, her back resting on an end table topped with a large, dying house houseplant. Her dark hair curtained her face, most likely hiding angry blotches on her cheeks from crying. She said nothing when Rorey sat in front of her and stroked her arm, her only reaction a strangled inhale.

Kirby resumed her seat on the other couch, pulling her knees under her chin and staring at the blank television as though it would make everything better. Her stepfather returning from the kitchen snapped her gaze from the TV, white spots clouding her vision. Thomas set a tray of hot chocolate and biscuits on the coffee table in the middle of the room, then sat next to his stepdaughter without any sort of greeting.

Kirby’s nails raked across the arm of the sofa, pulling a thread loose and letting it fall to the floor. She fixed her gaze on the horrid wallpaper on the wall opposite her and kept it there. Inexplicable goose pimples rose on her arms and hand, sending a shiver down her spine. She allowed her eyes to fall closed again for a second, the surrounding silence of the room pulling her into a false sense of security, as if when she opened her eyes everything would be fine again. Not one thing had been fine since she set foot in Australia nine months ago. That wasn’t about to change now.

Kirby pulled her face into her hands, letting out an exhale somewhere between an exhausted sigh and an irritated groan. Weary muscles tensed, and she pushed the heel of her palms to the top of her eye socket, trying to relieve the throb there. A yawn split her features and her eyes threatened to snap shut again. She couldn’t fall asleep - she wouldn’t permit it. Her sisters needed her. Falling asleep now was only selfish.

“What happens now?” Rorey asked, standing from her seat on the floor next to Darcy and crossing the room to sit with her father. She squeezed herself between Thomas and Kirby, taking one of each of their hands and holding them tight.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, speaking for the first time since she came home. She raised her head and shot daggers with her eyes at her younger sister. “What kind of question is that? You know exactly what happens now.”

Kirby gripped Rorey’s hand tighter, her thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her palm. Her mind spun, and her heart raced against her ribs as she processed the question. She knew Rorey didn’t mean the question in the way Darcy had interpreted it, that she was actually asking how they moved on from this. The redhead’s skin crawled at the thought of having to cope without their mother. She’d watched Fallon do it for years, and she didn’t want that for herself. Or for her sisters.

Her fingers flexed, and she dropped Rorey’s hand, a pained gasp leaving her mouth before she could stop it. She stood from the couch and mumbled something about having to call her dad. Her lungs contracted, pushing every last drop of oxygen from them, and halting her just outside the living room door. Tears sprang up in her eyes, falling and dripping from her chin before she even noticed them forming. She coughed, pulling in an unsteady breath and blinking fast to quell her tears. Her eyes began to ring, earsplitting tones whistling high, and only got worse when she shook her head to rid herself of them.

Her vision blurred further, and nausea bubbled in the pit of her stomach. The hallway spun around her and the ringing came to a sudden stop. She couldn’t hear anything.

* * *

  
  


_Fallon lay flat on her back on the hardwood floor of their living room. She watched a fly bounce around in the light shade - anything to take her mind off what was happening with Kirby. She held her right arm above her head after it had gone numb from lack of use. Kirby lay next to her, breathing slow and shallow._

_The brunette’s left hand entwined with the redhead’s right in the narrow space between them. Kirby had to leave the next morning. They still hadn’t spoken, instead sitting in absolute silence and stewing in the unresolved tension._

_Fallon wanted to ask Kirby why she had to leave, and she had every opportunity to do so. She took not one of them, her gut flipping in uncomfortable circles every time she even considered the idea. She was too afraid of her girlfriend not having an answer and using her family as a cover._

_She lifted their hands and placed her lips on the back of Kirby’s hand, leaving a stain of expensive red lipstick on her knuckles. Something unfamiliar pulled at her sternum, sending a dull ache up into her chest where it would remain for months on end._

_Fallon laid their joined hands on her abdomen, spreading her fingers before closing them again. “I’m not mad at you,” she said, turning to look at the redhead. “I really want to be, but I’m not.”_

_“Thank you,” Kirby breathed, her focus glued to the ceiling. She chewed on her bottom lip, her head shaking slightly._

_Fallon’s arm fell to the floor with a dull thud as she sat up, her gaze never leaving Kirby’s face, her eyes burning holes into the redhead’s cheek. Still, Kirby did not look at her._

_“Did I do something wrong?” the brunette asked, prising her hand from Kirby’s grip and crossing her arms over her chest. “Because you’re making me feel like I’ve upset you.”_

_“You? Never,” Kirby said, sitting up but keeping her eyes forward._

_“Then why won’t you look at me?”_

_“Because I’m about to do something that will hurt you.”_

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The hallway faded back into her vision, and sound rushed back to her ears. She shot bolt upright into a sitting position, her heart thundering in her chest. She gasped for air, blinking to get her eyes to focus. Heat crept up her neck and to her cheeks and ears.

“Oh my god, Kirby! Are you alright?” Thomas’s voice broke through the blood rushing in her ears and the chaos in her mind, pulling her back to earth.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” she assured him, carefully standing from the floor. “I think I’ll go to bed.”

Her legs shook as she ambled upstairs, her knuckles white as she gripped onto the banister. Her body grew heavier with every step, her muscles screaming at her to sleep. She pushed open her bedroom door with a pained breath before falling back onto her bed and melting into the mattress. 

Her body relaxed and her heavy eyelids fell closed, and this time she was powerless against keeping them open. She didn’t fight it and allowed her exhaustion to take her over.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The iPhone Marimba startled her from her slumber, shocking her body into a sitting position. Kirby rubbed the sleep from her eyes and lifted her phone from her pillow next to her. Her vision took a few moments to blur into focus. Her father was calling.

She stared at his caller ID for a few seconds, her throat closing over as the device vibrated in her hand. She needed to talk to him; to tell him, but the thought of admitting it out loud twice in one day sent her already overexerted brain into overdrive.

She answered, waiting a few moments before saying anything.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, her voice thin and cracking.

“Hello, sweetheart. How are you holding up? I haven’t heard from you in a few days.” His tone came through soft and even. He knew, but he wouldn’t tell her Fallon had already told him. She needed to tell him herself.

Kirby exhaled through her nose. She didn’t want to answer the question. Again. She didn’t know how. She shook her head as though her father could see her.

“I’ve been better,” she said. Understatement of the century. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Her father gave a hum of understanding, opting to listen to her laboured breaths rather than speak. She wouldn’t have listened to him, anyway. There was too much on her mind to do anything but think.

“She’s dead,” she whispered, her eyes shut to keep the tears in. She hesitated before continuing. “She died last night about seven.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he said, the lump forming in his throat blatant in his voice. “I’m so sorry.”

“Um… Fallon’s coming, I’m not sure when, but could you maybe come with her?”

“Of course.”

Kirby clicked the hangup button without saying goodbye. Her mind fogged up, her vision hazy as she looked around her bedroom. She licked her cracked, bone-dry lips and pulled her hair away from her face and into a ponytail, stretching her stiff legs out in front of her. Her head still spun, but she forced her eyes to stay open and stood up. Henry, her cat, lay on top of her dresser, asleep. She’d almost forgotten about him in the whirlwind of the past few days. Something new to add to her list of things to feel guilty about. This list was getting rather long.

She looked out the window to find the sky pink with dusk. She’d been asleep for hours. She took a tentative step forward, holding onto the door handle like it would keep her upright. Her legs shook beneath her and her vision clouded yet again. She needed to eat something before she fainted again.

Kirby staggered out of her bedroom and downstairs. She stood in the hallway for a minute, the sound of her family talking traveling through the askew living room door. One of her aunts was here, which meant at least one of her cousins was here, too. She swallowed hard and walked to the kitchen instead, where she found a pizza box sitting on the counter. She pulled a plate from the drying rack next to the sink, lifting the lid and transferring two slices onto the plate before leaving the kitchen. They were cold, but they were food.

The living room fell silent when she entered, the eyes of her sisters, her stepfather, her Aunt Sandy, and her cousin Jaime fixed on her. She stared back for a few seconds before slinking to the armchair in the corner. She sat down and crossed her legs, moving her gaze from her family to the plate on her knee. The begging hunger in her stomach morphed to nausea at the sight of congealed grease laying atop her food.

The room’s conversation continued after a moment, though their focus still lingered on her as she reluctantly took a bite from her first meal in days. She didn’t listen to them, something in her chest twisting as she watched the cars pass the house through the window opposite her, their headlights bathing the room in muted orange light for a few seconds as they drove by.

Rorey moved from Thomas’s side to sit on the arm of the chair Kirby sat in. Her fingers played with the ends of her auburn hair, plaiting it as she watched her older sister, cautious not to break her, it seemed.

“Kirby?” She said, her voice hushed. Her eyes burned holes in the side of Kirby’s face.

“Yeah, babes?” The older of the two responded, turning her head to look at Rorey. The lost look in her eyes made Kirby want to hold her and protect her from the world for the rest of time.

“Is your dad coming?”

“Yes, he is. I think he and Fallon are getting a flight in a day or so, so they’ll be here by the weekend.”

The teenager nodded, her large brown eyes still staring at her older sister, almost unblinking.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Kirby asked, pushing Rorey’s hair from her face and behind her ear.

“Mum’s coming home tomorrow at half-past three,” she said. She turned her head to look at their sister. Darcy sat wedged between Aunt Sandy and Jaime, her expression sour and her eyes puffy. “I don’t think Darce wants to see her.”

Kirby’s heart plummeted to her stomach. She wasn’t sure if she could bear to see her mother’s body, either. She held her gaze on her family across the room, keeping her focus on anything but the coffin sitting where she sat now.

She moved her plate to the other arm of the chair and let Rorey slide down to sit on her lap. She wrapped her arms around her sister’s small frame, encasing her in a rib-crushing hug. The teenager shrugged and kept her eyes fixed on the wall to their left. She shook her head, several blinks coming in quick succession as she tried to quell the visible tears pricking in her eyes. Kirby kissed the top of her hair, her stare still concentrated on her aunt, cousin, and sister on the other side of the room. Jaime looked at her for a second, considering her with sympathy before returning his attention to Thomas again.

Kirby didn’t speak another word that evening, opting to listen to the laments of her family instead. She pulled Rorey’s hair into a complex braid while she stared at the lamppost outside the house flickering and surveyed anyone who passed. Her stomach twisted itself into complicated knots and her legs hurt from her sitting position and her sister sitting on her. Her head still spun, and her sleep and food-deprived brain registered little noise.

She still sat on the armchair in the corner when Aunt Sandy and Jaime left again. She still sat on the armchair on the corner when Thomas, Darcy, and Rorey went to bed. She still sat on the armchair in the corner when she woke up the next morning.

She raised her arms over her head, the vertebrae in her back clicking with the movement. For a moment, she felt light - like the weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It barely lasted a second, the burden tumbling back down and landing square at the base of her neck. She grumbled, rubbing the spot with her hand, and left the living room.

She pulled her phone from her back pocket and checked the time. Six thirty-five. She had three missed calls from Fallon and another from her father. Apparently, they’d forgotten the thirteen-hour time difference. Kirby sat on the bottom stair and called Fallon back, resting her head against the wall. Her girlfriend didn’t answer. Neither did her dad. She was inwardly grateful. She wasn’t sure she’d be anything close to coherent at this hour.

She went to bed after that and stayed there until Thomas dragged her out at close to twelve that afternoon.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**_Fallon:_ ** _Hi babe! Sorry I missed your call, we were in the air. We just landed in Sydney, and our flight is due in around 45 minutes and we’ll get to Perth at around 5:45. Could you pick us up and call me when you get this?_

She’d sent it fifteen minutes ago. Kirby put her phone face-down on the couch next to her without answering the message. Of course she would pick them up, they didn’t have to ask, but answering a text seemed like far too much brainpower for her right then. She should call Fallon. But, despite sleeping for fourteen hours, every drop of energy had been sapped from her when she interacted with her family the evening before. She put her face in her hands and withheld a sob, blinking away tears before they could even form properly. She didn’t know why she was crying, but it seemed that was all she could do at this point.

She was home alone again for the first time in two days. The girls were back at school, per their own request, and Thomas was organising things for the funeral. Kirby opted out of joining him. The funeral meant goodbye, and she was nowhere near ready for that - she’d never be ready for that.She didn’t know how anyone could be.

The air inside the living room was hot and humid, the windows locked and the curtains drawn. She still wrapped herself in Fallon’s blanket, Chanel No. 5 filling her senses. Her heart gave a jolt as she remembered the text message again after spacing out for a moment. She really should call the brunette.

“Hello?” Fallon answered on the second ring. She sounded relieved, as though she hadn’t expected Kirby to call.

“Hey,” Kirby said, her tone as flat as her mood. She trained her eyes on the wall opposite her, keeping herself from looking around the room and reminiscing. Her heart couldn’t handle anymore wounds. “Is your flight soon? Sorry, I just got your text.”

“No, no. It’s okay. We leave in around thirty minutes, so we’ll be boarding in like five. Are you okay to pick us up?”

“Yeah, yes. That’s fine. I’ll probably bring Rorey and Darcy with me. They’ve been asking for you,” Kirby said, barely believing her own lie. Neither of her sisters had mentioned her once in the months the redhead had been home. Darcy had hardly spoken at all, and she wouldn’t waste her breath asking her sister about her girlfriend, and she probably told Rorey to do the same. “That’s okay, right?”

“Sure, I’ve missed them.”

Kirby said nothing for a moment, escaped light dabbling on the wallpaper distracting her for several seconds. She heard their flight being called from the other end of the line and sighed. They’d wasted a conversation asking stupid questions. It was like they didn’t know each other anymore.

“We’re boarding now, so I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye, Kirb.”

Kirby’s line felt like sandpaper as the line went dead. It was as though she was speaking to a stranger; it didn’t feel like she was talking to Fallon at all. All senses of familiarity and love they claimed to share were nowhere in sight. They were lying to each other, and it was becoming increasingly blatant with every conversation they had. And it was all Kirby’s fault. If she had made any attempt to talk to her girlfriend, just once, or even explained everything before she left, they wouldn’t be in this situation. They wouldn’t be hanging onto their relationship by its very last strings. But, she hadn’t, and they were. This wasn’t fair to Fallon, and it was eating the redhead alive.

* * *

  
  


Rorey and Darcy ambled into the kitchen at three fifteen, Thomas following closely behind them. Their faces fell sullen and the dark rings under their eyes had only grown darker after their first day back at school. They were home early, but Kirby expected they wished they were anywhere but here. Their mother’s body was to arrive in fifteen minutes. Kirby’s heart clenched when she saw her little sisters’ faces, so lost and broken. She wanted nothing more than to scoop them up and protect them from the world.

Rorey ran to Kirby and hugged her tight, her school bag still on her back. She buried her face into her sister’s body and shook her head. Kirby petted her hair, hushing her in an attempt to soothe her. It didn’t work. The redhead rested her chin on top of her younger sister’s head and turned her attention towards Darcy. 

Darcy sat at the kitchen table, pulling books from her bag. She was doing her homework when her mother’s body was on its way home. Kirby wanted to say something, ask what she was doing, but stopped herself. Darcy was probably coping by distracting herself. Kirby had to respect that.

Rorey pulled herself from the hug a few moments later and sat down at the table across from Darcy. She didn’t take out her homework to do, she just sat there, staring at her fingers. Kirby continued to stand at the sink, leaning against the counter. She crossed her arms over herself and looked to her stepfather.

“Where are we putting the coffin?” She asked. She didn’t want to know. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to see the body. She just needed to know what part of the house to avoid.

“On the back wall of the living room. That’s the only place with room for it,” her stepfather said. “Your aunts will be here at four.”

“Okay.” Kirby turned to boil the kettle. “I have to get Fallon and my dad from the airport at five-thirty so I won’t be able to stay for long.”

“That’s fine. Just let me know before you leave.”

There was a knock at the front door. The undertakers were here. Kirby kept Rorey and Darcy in the kitchen while Thomas showed them to the living room. She shut the door and stood against it, preventing anyone from getting in or out until the undertakers left. She wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening for as long as she possibly could. Which wasn’t very long. They left, and Thomas knocked on the kitchen door for them to come out and have a little time with their mother before other people arrived. 

Rorey and Darcy left to go into the living room, but Kirby stayed put in the kitchen, taking a seat at the table. She hated that her teenage sisters were handling this better than she was. How did they have more emotional maturity than she did? She was an adult. They were children.

She went into the living room eventually, after Darcy had come back into the kitchen and mumbled something Kirby didn’t understand. The redhead stood in the doorway and stared at the coffin from the other side of the room, failing to stop her tears or quell the ache in her chest. She hated this. She took a step forward, and then a step back. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go near the body.

Kirby turned on her heel and went back into the kitchen to make tea for her aunts. Rorey had gone upstairs to her room, but Darcy still sat at the table.

“You okay, babes?” the redhead asked, emptying the kettle into the teapot. “How are you holding up?”

Darcy shrugged but put her pen down and looked up at her sister. “I don’t know how I feel. Nothing feels real.”

“I get what you mean. I feel like this is some kind of nightmare I’ll wake up from and everything will go back to normal,” Kirby said, laying out a row of mugs. This was the first conversation she’d had with her sister in over a week.

“And you’d be back in America?” Darcy’s voice had sounded hollow before, but more so now. “You’ll be going back soon, anyway.”

Kirby didn’t reply for a moment, digging through a cupboard for biscuits. She didn’t know what to say. She would go back to Atlanta soon, but she didn’t want to leave her sisters. She’d left them for the last eight years, she didn’t want to do it again.

“I’m going to stay here for as long as possible,” she said, making the decision on the spot. “I will go back to Atlanta eventually, but not soon.”

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> As always, I'd like to thank Amanda for beta reading this for me!
> 
> Happy reading!

Kirby stood at the terminal, her hands shaking in her pockets. Her heart beat hard against her ribs as she watched the board switch from  _ on time  _ to _ arrived. _ Rorey squeezed her hand, looking up at her with a reassuring smile. The older of the two swallowed the ever-growing lump in her throat and returned the smile, despite the hollowness in her chest. Every atom in her body buzzed with nervous apprehension. Her fingers vibrated against her leg and the back of her sister’s hand. Her lungs ached for a smoke, and she scolded herself for the millisecond she considered it. She’d dropped the habit almost a year before, and there was no way something as small as seeing her girlfriend was going to push her back into the deep end.

The first few passengers came through the gate, mostly families with small children and older couples. Kirby tapped her foot on the carpeted floor, pulling her hand free from Rorey’s grasp and the other from her pocket to fold her arms over her chest. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed at the skin until the metallic shock of blood filled her mouth. She soothed the broken skin over with her tongue, her eyes still scanning the growing flow of passengers for her girlfriend and her father. Still, there was no sign of them. She gathered her hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck before dropping it again and leaning back on her heels, an impatient groan leaving her lips without permission.

Kirby heard Fallon before she saw her. A shudder travelled up the redhead’s spine as the other woman’s dulcet tones filled the air, already complaining about the heat. Oh, how Kirby had missed her. Panic blossomed in her chest at the sight of the brunette, dressed in a forest green pantsuit and black stilettos with full hair and makeup. Nothing about her had changed in their nine-month estrangement.

“Is that them now?” Rorey asked, pulling at the sleeve of her sister’s pullover.

“Yes, that’s them,” Kirby replied, an edge of alarm in her voice.

Her father spotted them before Fallon, and waved in their direction. Both wore wide smiles as their gazes met with Rorey and Kirby’s, yet they were greeted with forced grimaces instead. Fallon’s smile faltered as they got closer, her fingers playing with the handle of her carry on. They came to a stop ten seconds later, placing their bags on the floor and looking at the sisters expectantly. Kirby and Rorey stared back, their expressions blank and their exhaustion becoming increasingly clear on their faces.

“Hi.” Fallon was the first to speak, her voice cracking. She smacked her lips together as though she’d just applied lipgloss and turned to look at Anders, who then offered his own hello. Rorey waved, her head pointed to the floor, her hair curtaining her blushing face.

Kirby stood rooted to the spot and didn’t move or say anything. The fog machine that seemed to have replaced her brain, blowing clouds of smoke in her head, prevented her from processing anything other than that she was embarrassingly overwhelmed. Her fingers beat harder against her thighs, and her breaths became more and more shallow; frantic for the oxygen her lungs refused to take in.

This was far from the reunion Kirby had expected, and frankly, had hoped for. She’d expected a slow-motion run-up where she and Fallon would meet in the middle kissing as they fell to the floor, crying and holding each other and promising they’d never let go of one another again. Instead, it felt more like running into a classmate from primary school than seeing her girlfriend in person for the first time in three-quarters of a year.

“Hey,” she breathed out a few moments later. Too much time had passed for it to sound like she was at all processing her surroundings. She swallowed hard again, the lump in her throat continuing to swell. She thought she might choke on it. She crossed one foot in front of the other and took Rorey’s hand again, closing her eyes for a second and taking a deep breath. “Are you ready to go?”

A look of mild bewilderment, and perhaps displeasure, crossed Fallon’s features. It only lasted a second, but Kirby saw it and the guilt gnawing at her insides intensified tenfold. This wasn’t the reunion she had expected, either.

“Yeah,” the brunette said, picking up her bags and taking a step forward. “Yeah, let’s go.”

No one made any attempt to make conversation on their way to the car, a heavy, stifling silence falling over them. Kirby helped Fallon and her father load their bags into the boot and got into the driver’s seat, Fallon following her and getting in the passenger side. They sat alone in the front of the car while her father and sister returned the luggage trolley to the return. A thick layer of discomfort hung over them.

Fallon put on her seatbelt and pulled down the sunshade, using the mirror to fix wispy hairs curling in the humidity. She sat back in her chair and turned to look at Kirby, who was already staring at her.

“How are you?” She asked, laying a hand upon the redhead’s which rested on the gearstick. Kirby flinched, but didn’t pull away, quickly inhaling a breath. The contact burned her skin.

“Sorry,” she said, forcing a tight smile on her face. It only lasted a second. “Yeah, I’m fine. Or, you know, as fine as I can be. What about you? How’s it been back in Atlanta?”

Kirby inwardly kicked herself. She would  _ know _ how it had been back in Atlanta if she had kept in touch with Fallon; returned at least one of her thousand calls. She would know if she wasn’t such a terrible girlfriend and communicated like the adult she claimed to be.

“It’s been okay. Not the same without you there, but it’s okay.”

Kirby nodded and turned away, her face growing hot, and sticky shame bubbled in her stomach. This was a terrible idea. All of this. She should never have agreed to pick them up. This was all too fresh, and it wasn’t fair on Fallon for the redhead to be too wrapped up in her own head to even look at her for longer than thirty seconds. None of this was fair on Fallon at all.

“I thought Darcy was coming too?” the brunette asked after a moment, her hatred of silence making an appearance.

“She had friends coming over so she couldn’t. She’s excited to see you, though.” Kirby didn’t even feel bad for lying. What harm could it do to pretend her sister liked her girlfriend?

Her father and Rorey got back from returning the trolley and clambered into the backseat. Their light conversation dissipated into nothing when they shut the doors and settled into the suffocating atmosphere the car held. Kirby waited a moment, watching the queue to leave the car park shrink before pulling out of the parking spot and driving out. The radio hummed quietly, cutting through the quiet and easing the tension a small amount. Only a little. 

No one said anything as they drove, or when they dropped her father off at his hotel, or when they arrived home. Kirby didn’t want anyone to speak. She was happy to sit in the disconcerting silence, alone with her battling mind. She deserved it.

* * *

  
  
  


Fallon shut Kirby’s bedroom door behind her, standing still for a second, her bag held in her arms as she stared around the room. Mild embarrassment bloomed in the redhead’s sternum as her eyes followed her girlfriend’s gaze. Her room was a mess. A stack of uneaten bowls of cereal sat on a nightstand, several half-drunk coffee mugs sat on the other, a large pile of laundry lay in the middle of the floor, and her bed sat unmade. She hadn’t noticed - not until Fallon had pointed it out to her.

“I thought you said you were doing fine?” Fallon asked, almost accusingly, stepping over a pair of discarded trainers and setting her bag on the floor. “It doesn’t  _ look _ like you’re doing fine.”

“I haven’t had time to clean up. The past few days have been a little busy,” Kirby snapped back, feeling far too defensive for what was clearly concern. “My mind has been on things other than how clean my room is.”

Fallon winced, bringing her hands to each side of her face and sighing. “I know.”

Kirby sat down on the bed next to the bag, looking strictly at the floor. She crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap, wringing them together to keep her focus on anything but the other woman, or the unravelling mess in the back of her mind. Tears stung in the back of her eyes, the events of the last three days momentarily paralyzing her with anxiety. She knew her room was a mess, and she probably didn’t look much better - but her appearance and surroundings only reflected what was going on inside her head. Her room was a mirror image of how she felt, and she didn’t know how to change it.

Fallon knelt on the floor at her feet, took her hands from her lap and held them between her own. She said nothing for a moment and just watched as Kirby cried, serving as physical support rather than emotional.

“It’s okay that you’re feeling this way,” she said, resting her head on Kirby’s knee. “I was a lot worse when Alexis left, and this is so much worse.”

The redhead shook her head, wiping tears from her face with the back of her hand. “It’s totally different, Fallon. You were only fifteen, and you coped well enough. And, Mum didn’t choose to die. Alexis chose to leave.”

Kirby’s hands ripped from Fallon’s grasp and shot to cover her mouth, as though they could scoop her words up and force them back in. They hung in the air for a few moments, clawing at her skin. Fallon didn’t react. Her expression didn’t change - she didn’t make as much as a noise of protest.

“I’m so sorry,” Kirby said, covering her face with her hands to hide her flush. She didn’t mean that, and she hoped to God Fallon knew that. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“No, you’re right. It is totally different. I shouldn’t have brought up my mom at all. I’m sorry.”

Fallon had nothing to be sorry for. She wasn’t the one minimising the other woman’s issues. Kirby pulled her knees to chest and buried her face in them. Everything hurt, and now she felt like a horrible person - no good person would ever say that to anyone, never mind their girlfriend.

Fallon fell back from her kneeling position and sat on her feet, still on the floor. She took Kirby’s hand again and squeezed it tight, sending searing shocks through the redhead’s arm. She didn’t pull away this time, or even flinch. She deserved it.

“Do you remember the first time I came here to visit?” Fallon asked after a few minutes of silence. Kirby raised her head, leaving tear stains on her jeans. She hiccoughed and nodded, her throat too tight to speak. “I refused to leave the house because I thought I would get bitten by a spider and die. I’m pretty sure I was also very afraid of kangaroos.”

“It took me three days to convince you that kangaroos don’t live in suburban Perth,” Kirby said with a watery smile. She rubbed her eyes, transferring her mascara to her cheeks and fingers. “You still didn’t believe me when I dragged you to the mall with me.”

Fallon laughed and stood from the floor. She moved her bag from the bed to the floor and sat in its place to put her arm around her girlfriend, pulling her into her body. Kirby let her, melting into her embrace. Time stood still for a moment, and her heart rate slowed to a normal rate for the first time in days. She’d forgotten how at home Fallon made her feel. She wanted to stay there and forget everything going on outside of cosy confines of her bedroom. She rested her head on the brunette’s shoulder, closing her eyes and allowing herself to feel at peace, just for a moment, before the guilt made a reappearance. They sat there for a while, soaking up the alone time they’d sorely missed for months.

Fallon’s phone rang, startling Kirby from the gentle lull she’d fallen into. She blinked her eyes back into focus and glimpsed at the caller ID. Michael. She’d never heard of a Michael, and Fallon always went into great detail about every important encounter she had at work. He must have been from work. Why else would he call her? Kirby wouldn’t know, anyway. Fallon hadn’t had the chance to tell her about work in seven months.

“It’s just Steven. Is it okay if I take this?” Fallon asked, holding her phone out of the redhead’s eye line. Kirby nodded, gears whirring in her head. She must have read the name wrong. Fallon wouldn’t lie about something like that. If she said it was Steven, it must have been Steven. Simple as that.

Unless it wasn’t him. Fallon  _ did _ have a particular love for lying. Not to Kirby, though. Never to Kirby. Not about who she was calling. But they  _ had  _ been apart for nine months. Things could have changed drastically in that time. What if Fallon had found someone else? Kirby wouldn’t blame her. Hate her? Yes. But she could understand.

But,  _ no. _ Fallon, while definitely lonely, wouldn’t do that. That was something Kirby would pull, not the brunette. The redhead chastised herself for even entertaining the idea.

Fallon came back into the room, pushing her phone back into her pocket. “Sorry. Steven sends his love.”

Kirby smiled. She wasn’t sure it reached her eyes, but it was enough for the other woman to do the same. The brunette sat down again and pressed a kiss to the redhead’s cheek, warming her face. The knots in her stomach loosened for a second, then tightened their grip tenfold. She loved Fallon, she did, but she knew doing so was only hurting her girlfriend at this point.

Fallon lay down, pulling Kirby down with her. She wrapped her arms around the taller woman’s waist and settled her chin on her shoulder. “Go to sleep. You’re exhausted.”

“But I promised I’d introduce you to my aunts tonight.”

“Your aunts can wait until tomorrow. Go to sleep, babe. God knows you need it.”   
  
  


* * *

_ Darkness cloaked the room when Fallon woke up. Kirby’s arm was no longer hooked securely around her waist, nor was her forehead pressed to the brunette’s neck. Slightly disoriented, Fallon sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. _

_ Her girlfriend sat on the very edge of the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Fallon didn’t need to see the redhead’s face to know she was either already crying or on the verge of tears. Her frame shook softly as her fingers tapped against her arms and she rocked herself back and forth. The brunette reached out and touched her shoulder, her fingers travelling down the other woman’s arm and landing on her hand, she squeezed it. _

_ Kirby jumped and whipped her head around to face Fallon, pushing her hand away. Even in the darkness, her tears were visible. Her nose was running, and her eyes were swollen. She’d been crying for a while. _

_ “Go back to sleep, babe. It’s late,” she said, turning around again to stare out the window. She dropped her arms to her sides and let out a sob before her hands rushed to muffle any sound that should come after it. _

_ “What’s wrong?” Fallon asked, crawling forward a few inches until she could sit behind the brunette and rest her head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around Kirby’s torso, her hands lying in her girlfriend’s lap. _

_ Kirby’s breathing grew rapid and shallow, her body almost vibrating with every breath she took. She leant back into Fallon’s body, letting most of her weight settle onto the brunette. She shook her head, which was still projected to the floor, and sniffed. It sounded as though her tears were subsiding. _

_ “You can tell me, it’s okay. Please, just tell me,” Fallon said after she got no answer. She lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips through the ends of the other woman’s hair, something proven to calm her down. “I hate seeing you like this. You of all people know talking about it will make it better.” _

_ Kirby sat up straight again, pulling at the restraints of Fallon’s arms. She seemed to hesitate and then sighed. “Saying it out loud will make it real, not better. I’m not ready for it to be real yet.” Her voice came as a croak. _

_ The brunette planted a kiss to where the redhead’s neck met her shoulder, the hand previously in her hair rubbing circles on her back. “Is this about you having to go home?” _

_ Kirby shrugged, then nodded. A strangled noise from the back of her throat escaped her mouth. She was crying again. _

_ “I don’t want to go. Give me an excuse to stay, please.” _

_ Fallon groaned to herself. How was she supposed to convince Kirby to stay when she didn’t even know why she had to leave? She closed her eyes, but managed to keep herself from falling back asleep, but only barely. _

_ “Why do you have to leave?” _

_ “I don’t want to talk about it.” _

_ Fallon leant back, only slightly, and puffed her cheeks. She was already getting frustrated, and she’d only been awake for a few minutes. Her arms still snaked around Kirby and kept her from falling backward, but her tired muscles barely held on. _

_ “How am I supposed to keep you here when you don’t even talk to me?” She asked, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. “We’ve barely spoken in days.” _

_ Kirby pried Fallon’s arms from around her and the brunette fell onto her back, the force winding her. The redhead whipped her head around, her eyes still leaking, but anger radiated from her features. Her nostrils flared, and she choked out another sob, shoving her face into the crook of her elbow. _

_ “You don’t get it.” _

_ “Of course I don’t get it! How am I supposed to get it when you refuse to communicate with me anymore?” _

_ Kirby turned her head and stood from the bed, marching from the room without another word. Fallon let her. She was sick of the silence. She wanted her girlfriend back, and Kirby could pout in the guest bedroom until she was ready to talk. _   
  
  


* * *

Kirby never wanted this morning to come. She lay awake for hours, Fallon curled in a sleeping ball on the edge of the other side of the bed. The redhead had only slept an hour when their seven-thirty alarm sounded. She turned to her side and turned it off, ignoring the slew of text messages she’d gotten late the night before. She stayed there as Fallon sat up and rubbed her girlfriend’s arm. Neither said anything. There was nothing to say.

Fallon got out of bed first and turned on the light. The curtains remained closed. “Babe, you need to get up. I know you don’t want to, but you have to. For Rorey and Darcy.”

Kirby stayed where she was. She knew she had to get up, but she felt that she physically couldn’t; her body felt stuck to the mattress. Henry moved from the bottom of the bed where he had been asleep and curled himself on the bed next to the redhead, resting his head on her leg. She definitely couldn’t move now. She pursed her lips and shook her head into her pillow with a groan. “Rorey and Darcy will be fine. They have their dad.”

The brunette sat at her feet and pulled her up by the arm. The cat jumped from the bed with a discontented mewl. Fallon stared at Kirby for a few moments, her eyebrow raised but her eyes glazed over with pity. Kirby didn’t want her pity. She wanted her mum. She sat up properly, dropping the other woman’s hand, and stuck out her bottom lip. She wanted to cry, but not in front of Fallon. She was so frustrated with everything, and she just wanted everything to stop for a second. She was too overwhelmed to think straight.

“You don’t mean that, Kirb. I know I don’t know what you’re feeling, but the closure will be good for you. I promise,” Fallon said, making eye contact and refusing to drop it. She inched closer, reaching a hand forward to rest on Kirby’s cheek. “I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, but you need to get up. If you stay in bed and miss the ceremony, you’ll never forgive yourself. Please.”

Kirby put her hand on top of Fallon’s, sucking in air through clenched teeth. She closed her eyes, praying not to cry. “I know. I just wish this wasn’t happening.”

Fallon pressed a kiss to her nose, and then to her lips, and smiled weakly. “So do I.”

Kirby returned the smile but dropped her gaze. She raised her free hand to her lips, wiping the bottom one with her index finger. It was the first time they’d kissed in the two days Fallon had been in Australia. The first in nine months. It felt different from the redhead remembered. But, it had been nine months. She probably remembered wrong.

They got ready in silence, standing side by side in the small bathroom as they did their makeup. Kirby didn’t know why she was putting makeup on. She would only cry it all off. It was a waste of time, but it stalled her from having to go downstairs and face her family. She hadn’t introduced them to Fallon yet; had put it off as long as possible. She’d been sleeping off her jet-lag, anyway, but leaving it to the morning of her mother’s funeral probably wasn’t the best idea.

Fallon walked downstairs in front of Kirby, their hands joined by the very tips of their fingers. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look at one another. Kirby clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying. She’d do enough of that later. She nodded, and they walked into the already packed living room, this time Kirby before Fallon. They stood in what seemed the only free space at the door. Kirby scanned the room for a familiar face. She hadn’t seen half of these people since she was little and still lived here permanently. Thomas sat on a pouf next to the coffin, talking to his mother. Kirby felt now wasn’t the time to interrupt him.

Aunt Sandy spotted them and rushed over, practically climbing over other members of their family. She pulled both of them into a hug, despite never meeting Fallon before. She offered that sympathetic smile Kirby was sick of receiving. She didn’t need sympathy. 

“How are you two?” Sandy asked. She stepped back from them, looking the brunette up and down. She raised her gaze back up to make eye contact, a look of anticipation etched on her aging face.

“This is my girlfriend, Fallon. Fallon, this is my Aunt Sandy,” Kirby said, rubbing her arm and keeping her focus on the floor. “We’re doing okay, thanks. How are you?”

Her aunt didn’t answer, but the smile returned, and she nodded.

“Nice to meet you, Sandy,” Fallon said, shifting her weight onto one leg. She crossed her arms over herself and sucked in her cheeks. The three of them stood there for a few moments, staring between one another and saying nothing. Kirby let out a staggered breath, her teeth grinding together. Fallon pushed an elbow into her ribs to stop her. The brunette hated it when she did that. The redhead forgot. She’d forgotten a lot of things. 

Someone Kirby didn’t recognise pulled her aunt away from them, muttering something about there not being enough finger sandwiches. 

The room was too noisy. People were gossiping next to the coffin. None of this felt right - not that anything had felt right in the past five days. The redhead pushed her back into the doorframe and bit down on the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t be in here anymore. She slipped out of the room and into an equally packed kitchen. She swiped two mugs of what she assumed was coffee and left again to pull Fallon back out of the living room. They had to go check on Rorey and Darcy, anyway.

The girls had already gotten dressed and sat on their twin beds in their shared room, staring at one another and saying nothing. Neither of them spoke when Fallon and Kirby came in and greeted them, asking how they were. 

Darcy raised her gaze to look her sister’s girlfriend up and down, more judgemental than when Aunt Sandy did the same. The teenager’s lips curled downward into a scowl only a hair’s breadth away from a snarl, as though she was about to insult Fallon. She’d stopped herself. She’d save the criticism until she was somewhere private with Rorey.

Rorey kept her gaze focused on the end of her bed, blatantly choosing to ignore the others’ presence in her room. Her feet were tucked beneath her, her arms wrapped around herself as though she was trying to keep warm. She rocked back and forth slightly, blinking rapidly. She was trying not to cry.

Kirby’s eyes danced between her sisters, deciding to deal with things later. They had to leave in ten minutes. They didn’t have time for this. “Come on, babes. We have to leave soon. Come say goodbye to mum.”

“We already did,” Darcy said, throwing her legs over the bed and standing up. “Dad woke us up early so we could before everyone got here. He told us not to wake you.” She sent another scathing look toward Fallon and pushed past them, leaving the room. 

Kirby looked to Rorey again, searching for answers. Her sister shrugged.

“Can you guys give me a minute on my own?”

Fallon and Kirby went back into the redhead’s bedroom. The brunette sat on the bed and pulled her phone from the nightstand. She smiled sadly at the screen as she scrolled. “Steven and my dad send love. They say they wish they could be here.”

Kirby wanted to ask  _ why  _ they couldn’t be here. She couldn’t imagine they had anything planned that the CEO and his son couldn’t reschedule. She’d lived with them for eight years; known them for longer than she could remember. She’d almost expected them to come. She’d  _ wanted  _ them to come. They were her family, and, here, her stepfather’s family outnumbered her. She didn’t ask; held her tongue this time. She wished she’d been able to before.

She sent a half-smile instead, fishing through her wardrobe for a bag. She chose one and packed two packets of tissues before throwing another two to her girlfriend. She packed one more into her handbag, just in case. Someone might forget their own.

Fallon stood from the bed and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and settling her head onto the other woman’s shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”

“As I’ll ever be.”   
  
  


* * *

Fallon drove her and Kirby from the cemetery to the church hall where the wake would take place. Kirby was in no state to drive, or function as a person. She hadn’t spoken since they’d left the house almost two hours before. She had nothing to say. Something resembling anger, but just falling short, clawed at her insides. Every inch of her skin crawled with dread, hollowness pooled in her lungs. 

She didn’t want to go. She wanted to sit in her bedroom with Henry and enough coffee to drown in and pretend everything was okay. She felt like the funeral was dragging on too long. This was torture.

Worn carpet spread across the floor, fraying around the edges, spilled tea and coffee stains periodically blotching the beige. Paisley wallpaper peeled from the walls, damp spots crawling up the pattern. Fallon and Kirby sat at the table in the very back corner. Fallon grabbed a cup of tea and a plateful of cheese sandwiches from another table and pushed them towards Kirby when they sat down. The redhead pretended she hadn’t, and concentrated on the large wooden doors on the other side of the hall, waiting for her sisters to come through.

“Eat your sandwiches! You didn’t have breakfast,” Fallon hissed in her ear. Kirby groaned and stared at her for a moment, her narrowed eyes on the razor’s edge of a glare. She screwed up her face before taking a bite from one of them. 

She swallowed, then stuck out her tongue. “Happy?” It came off sharper than she intended, every letter saturated with an annoyance she didn’t realise she felt. She squared her jaw and looked down at the threadbare tablecloth laying over the table. The almost-anger melted to guilt, stronger than the kind she’d felt for the last nine months. She wished she could be nice to Fallon, just once.

Rorey sat in the seat next to Kirby, pulling her into a side hug before the redhead realised she was there. She plucked a sandwich off the plate and ate it before she said anything. “Dad told me to come over here and keep you company.” Darcy and Thomas sat at the table closest to the door, huddled with some of his family. Rorey seemed in a much better mood than earlier. Kirby didn’t understand how. They’d just buried their mother. 

“Thank you,” Fallon said, sending the teenager a look of encouragement, as though her borderline happiness was appropriate. “You’re welcome to sit with us for as long as you want.” She took the redhead’s hand and kissed it, her pity smile making a reappearance. Kirby wanted to slap it off her face.

“You don't have a choice,” Rorey said, taking another sandwich. “It’s this or I have to go sit with Jaime and his girlfriend.”

Kirby sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her lips into a line and exhaling sharply through her nose. She tuned out her sister and Fallon’s conversation about Jaime’s girlfriend, staring at her other sister from across the room. Darcy didn’t notice her. She leant against Thomas, her eyes closed. 

The redhead frowned, her face itchy from where she cried off her makeup. She rubbed under her eyes, flakes of mascara and concealer caking onto her finger. She wiped it on the tablecloth and looked back at her girlfriend. “Will you come to the bathroom with me, babe?”

Fallon nodded and followed her from the hall, badgering her with questions about how she felt. Kirby waved her off, pushing into the tiny bathroom.

“What’s wrong? Do you need to cry? It’s okay if you do,” the brunette said. She opened her arms and wiggled her fingers, staring her down for a hug. Scoffing, the redhead didn’t oblige, no matter how much she needed to cry.

“No, I don’t have to cry. I need to fix my makeup. I’m a mess.”

The brunette raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, but kept her mouth shut. She pulled a concealer and powder from her handbag and handed it over to her girlfriend. She leant her back against the counter, tenting her manicured fingers as she looked around the bathroom. She probably hadn’t been in a public toilet since high school. 

Kirby fixed her makeup to the best of her ability in the fluorescent blue lights. She combed through her hair with her fingers, flattening the curls, and brushed it behind her ears. She stared at her reflection for a moment, lightless eyes and hollow cheekbones staring back at her. Purple rings shone through her makeup, her eyes marbled with red, the skin of her lips chewed to nothing.

She turned to Fallon, her best attempt at a smile splitting a crack in her lips. She wiped the blood away with her thumb, smearing it on the skin beneath her mouth. She soothed it over with her tongue, trying to keep the somewhat happy expression on her face. A glimpse at herself in the mirror from the corner of her eye told her she looked in pain. 

Fallon took a step towards her, pulling her into an embrace. She pet the back of Kirby's hair, wrapping a tendril around her finger. She placed a kiss to the base of her cheek, humming something. The redhead stood rigid for a few seconds, her body too tense to move. Her breaths came in shallow pants, tripping in her throat. She pulled her arms up and wrapped them around Fallon, her grip practically non-existent.

“It’s okay. Let it out. You’re okay.”

Kirby didn’t cry, her eyes glued to the ceiling to halt the tears on their path down her face. She dropped her arms again and stepped backward, her head shaking. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she sniffed, blowing out a heavy exhale through her mouth. She wasn’t fine.

Fallon took one of Kirby’s hands in her own and kissed her cheek as Darcy came through the bathroom door. The teenager rolled her eyes, her lips curled downwards into a scowl, a noise of disgust whimpered past her lips.

“Prude,” Kirby said, poking her sister on the shoulder on her way past. She let out a short, sharp laugh. The first in weeks. 

Darcy stopped short of the farthest cubicle and whipped around, her dark hair arcing behind her. Her frown tensed to a smirk. “I’m not a prude,” she said, dropping her arms. “You should just know that not everyone is okay with you having your girlfriend around.” Her tone was plain; the words spoken so matter-of-factly it was as though she was giving a presentation in a class that bored her to death. She didn’t blink, something resembling pride glinting in her abyss-dark eyes. “Not everyone’s alright with you being a dyke, you know.”

Every letter dripped with poison, knocking all the air from Kirby’s lungs. She threw Fallon’s hand away from her, hugging herself instead. She clenched her jaw, teeth grinding together and lips in a taut line. Anger and betrayal radiated off of her like heat, igniting every nerve ending in her body. Her hand shook, her lungs aching for a cigarette. She brought her fingers to her lips, biting down on her thumbnail as she stared at her sister, searching for even a glimmer of remorse. She didn’t find any.

“What the  _ fuck _ did you just say?” Fallon demanded, her voice low and rumbling. 

Darcy shrugged, an expression of utmost innocence laying itself over her face. “I think you heard what I said. I’m entitled to my own opinion, aren’t I?” She picked at her cuticles and back into the stall, fake pity gracing her features, her lips pouting.

The brunette rushed forward, slamming the cubicle door open, arms shaking and breaths heavy. “Listen here, you little bitch _.  _ Kirby is your  _ sister _ -”

“Half-sister, actually.” Darcy shoved Fallon away from her and slammed the door shut, rattling the other stalls.

The brunette battered on the door with her fist. “Don’t you  _ dare _ ! Your mom didn’t raise you like this!”

“Fallon, stop.” Kirby’s voice, splintering, barely rose above the noise her girlfriend was making. “Now. Stop it. I want to go home.”

“But-”

“It’s fine. She’ll apologise later when she gets her head out of her ass.”

Kirby didn’t believe a word that had just come out of her mouth. Darcy was mulishly stubborn and hadn’t changed her mind once in her seventeen years of life. There would be no apology. Ever.

* * *

  
  


_ Fallon and Kirby posed outside the cinema, hands clasped together and leaning away from each other, all peace-signs and braces-obscured smiles. A friend snapped their picture on the redhead’s Polaroid camera, yelling at them to get closer to keep in frame. A few middle-aged women bustled past, sending disapproving looks in their direction. Monica and her definite not-boyfriend stood a few metres away, giggling and talking under their voices. _

_ The sun sunk low in the sky, apricot and coral clouds wisping behind buildings. The air hung cool, late November chill crawling goose pimples up Fallon’s bare legs. Still, it was warmer than usual. She laughed, loud and bell-like as she pulled out of the pose, dragging her hand through her hair, changing the parting. Heat flushed under caked-on makeup when Kirby grinned back at her, eyes crinkled and cheeks rosy. She beamed back, something shifting in her chest. _

_ Her friends traipsed inside the cinema, throwing their tickets at the employee. Anders had booked and printed them earlier that day. The others made a beeline for the concessions stand, talking too loudly and earning annoyed looks from other movie-goers. But, Kirby stopped in her tracks, grabbing Fallon by the wrist and pulling her towards the bathroom. _

_ “Come on, babes. Trixie is getting us popcorn.” She was losing her accent. Watching the Nicole Kidman interviews to prevent such a thing hadn’t worked, apparently. Fallon followed her, flats dragging across the linoleum floors. _

_ Kirby pulled her into a stall with her, closing and locking the door, standing with her back pressed against it. _

_ “Why am I in here with you?” The brunette asked, her heart rate picking up, thumping in her throat. They were too close to one another; a stumble and Fallon would practically be in Kirby’s arms. _

_ “I need to talk to you about something,” the redhead said, her voice on the edge of a tremble. She locked her fingers together, squeezing tight; her knuckles pink with the tension. “It’s important.” _

_ “And you’re going to do it in a movie theatre bathroom?” Fallon asked. Her intention was to sound teasing, but it came off more afraid than anything. Like she knew she was in trouble. _

_ “I just can’t keep it in anymore. I need to tell you.” Kirby crossed one leg in front of the other, sighing heavily. “You can keep a secret, right?” _

_ Fallon nodded. “Of course. Are you in trouble?” Gears whirred in her head, trying to figure out what was happening before Kirby told her. “Oh God. You’re not pregnant, are you?” _

_ The redhead choked on air, snorting. “No. Obviously not. Kind of impossible.” _

_ The brunette’s eyebrows rose up in surprise, curiosity bubbling at the back of her throat. She didn’t comment, waiting for the other girl to say something. _

_ Kirby sighed again, this time more confident than the last. “I’m just going to say it… I have a girlfriend.” _

_ Oh.  _ Oh. __

_ Something roared inside Fallon, clawing its way up into her chest and curling itself tightly around her heart. An inexplicable anger bubbled in her veins with her blood, her flush no longer the embarrassment she couldn’t explain. How long had Kirby been keeping this from her? Why hadn’t she told her earlier? _

_ “So, you’re, like, gay?” The words were harsher than intended, something bitter clinging around their edges. “I mean, I’m happy for you. This is just a surprise.” It wasn’t. No straight girl liked _ Jennifer’s Body _ as much as the redhead did. _

_ Kirby shrugged. “I don’t know. I like girls. But, I don’t know how I feel about guys yet.” _

_ Fallon nodded, tears burning the back of her eyes. Why the hell was she crying? “Thank you for telling me. I’m glad I’m comfortable enough to tell me.” _

_ She opened her arms and pulled Kirby into herself, her body aching at her touch. She inhaled the scent of her pear shampoo. She didn’t ever want to let go. _

_ “Fallon, you’re my best friend. I’d trust you with my life. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just wasn’t ready.” _

_ But she was ready enough to tell some girl. Fallon shook her head, her forehead pressed against the other girl’s neck. “I love you,” whispered, the words pulling a weight from her shoulders. “So much.” _

_ “I love you too, babes. The most” _

* * *

  
  
  
Kirby stood at the kitchen counter, angry tears dragging rivers through her foundation. She still wore the dress she’d worn to the funeral, which was now dusted with a light snowfall of flour. She gave the dough a final mix before dumping it onto the floured surface. She beat her hand against it, all but punching it. She told herself she was getting the air out, ignoring the pulse of her knuckles as they hit the solid countertop. 

She kneaded it until it was flat and dry; useless. Her pastry would be too chewy. She didn’t care. She punched it again, her fingers cracking on impact. She hissed, shaking it out. She rolled the dough into a ball and dropped it back into its bowl before pulling two apples from the fruit bowl and peeling them.

The shuffle of her slippers against the tiles made her presence apparent.

“I don’t need you to look after me. I’m okay,” Kirby said. She didn’t turn around, continuing to cut the fruit into irregular cubic chunks. She didn’t even acknowledge how unconvincing her lie was.

Fallon came to her side, setting her phone on the counter. “You’re a worse liar than Steven. You are stress baking in silence, crying. You’re clearly not okay.”

Kirby didn’t reply for a moment, scooping the apples into another bowl and adding a tablespoon of cinnamon, some sugar and a splash of lemon juice to keep them fresh. She tossed the mixture inside its bowl and turned to her girlfriend, and irrational annoyance washing over her.

“I have a right to be not okay. I just lost my mum and my sister called me…” she cut herself short, tightening the ponytail at the top of her head. “I just want to distract myself for a while. I think I’ve earned it.”

“Of course you do,” Fallon said, all too quickly. “So, what are we making?”

“Apple dumplings.”

They finished them together, only talking when necessary; asking what temperature to preheat the oven, how big the dumplings should be. All asked by Fallon. Kirby gave short, two-at-a-max word answers.

Fallon’s phone buzzed when she was on the other side of the room, cleaning up the dishes. Kirby snuck a glance, her irritation growing tenfold when she saw the message.

**_Michael:_ ** _ Missing you :) _

He’d called six times in the three days she’d been here. This was the first text Kirby saw. She pretended not to have seen it when Fallon came back over a few minutes later. She didn’t want to start an argument. Her mood was bad enough. Her girlfriend didn’t mention it, either. They didn’t have to talk about it. Ignorance was bliss, right?

“I don’t like the way you spoke to Darcy earlier,” Kirby said despite not wanting to fight. She had to get it off her chest. She turned to Fallon again, a sternness in her face. “You shouldn’t have called her a bitch. She’s only a kid.”

“Are you serious?” the brunette said. “She called you the d-slur, Kirby. She deserved it. And, she’s a month away from being eighteen. She’s hardly a child.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have spoken to her the way you did. I want you to apologise to her when she gets home.”

“No,” Fallon said, grabbing her phone and retreating to the kitchen door. “I’m not doing that. I’m not staying here with her, either. I don’t feel comfortable living with your homophobic asshole of a sister.”

“Half-sister,” Kirby muttered under her breath, watching her girlfriend march down the hallway and turn to go upstairs.

The brunette made a point of being noisy upstairs, slamming doors and stomping as she walked. Kirby ignored her, pulling the apple dumplings from the oven and placing them on a cooling rack. 

Fallon barrelled downstairs ten minutes later and left the house with a slam of the front door.    
  
  


* * *

_ “Break up with Samantha,” Fallon whispered, her tongue jumbling the words into a slurred disarray. Samantha was Kirby’s girlfriend, now of six months. They were cute together. Sickeningly. She couldn't stand it. _

_ The redhead laughed, the giggle that only appeared when she was tipsy. “What are you talking about, babes? Why would I break up with her?” _

_ They sat in the brunette’s bed, sharing a bottle of liquor stolen from the cart in the dining room. No one would ever notice. Dusty pink light crept slanted through the blinds, making Kirby’s skin glow. She looked ethereal. She always did. _

_ Fallon shrugged, jittery nervousness creeping up her spine, sending a shiver down it. “I don’t think she’s right for you.” _

_ Kirby shifted back a few centimetres, her face scrunched up in confusion. Her palm found her forehead before it dragged through her hair. She pressed her lips into a fine, white line. Her intoxicated brain was not processing well. _

_ “I don’t think she could make you as happy as you deserve to be,” Fallon said, pushing herself forward an inch, minimising the already small space between them. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, blinking slowly as she stared into her best friend’s eyes. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, babes.” _

_ Fallon never called Kirby babes. Kirby called everyone babes. The word felt foreign on her tongue. _

_ “And who do you think  _ could _ make me happy? Who  _ is _ right for me?” _

_ The brunette looked down at the sheets, crossing her arms over herself. Her almost-confidence faded to embarrassment. This wasn’t going as planned -not that she had planned this. Something about the alcohol awoke the cocky voice in the back of her mind, convincing her to make a move. She’d been holding it back for months. She couldn’t take it anymore. _

_ “You already know who I’m talking about,” she said, bringing her face close to Kirby. Close enough to feel her breath on her nose. “I’m sure of it.” _

_ Kirby’s eyes bored into hers, her pupils dilated. They flicked down to her lips and back again, and her breaths stopped. “Fallon…” _

_ The brunette turned her face to the right, ever so slightly, bringing her lips to the redhead’s ear. “Break up with her, please.” Kirby shivered, a long vibration coursing down her body. _

_ “Give me a reason to. A real one.” _

_ Fallon swallowed, the smallest of smiles pulling at the corners of her lips. It was now or never. “For me.” _

_ She pulled back, only inches separating their faces. A knot in the brunette’s stomach kept her in place, waiting for the other girl to say something. To react. It took a long few seconds, but she did. _

_ Kirby’s lips were softer than anyone Fallon had ever kissed. She rose to her knees, pulling the redhead with her. Hands tangled in hair. Fingers brushed clothed rib cages.  _

_ “For you.” _

* * *

  
  
  
The world spun around Kirby, shaking very ground beneath her. She stumbled down the corridor of the hotel, her heart thumping and her heart racing. She had to talk to her before she left the next day. She couldn’t let Fallon leave on the awful terms they were on. Their relationship was crumbling as it was.

Her eyes travelled between the doors, trying to find Fallon. Room twenty-seven. Her breath quickened with every step she got closer to the door her girlfriend was behind. She wanted to talk to her -  _ needed _ to - but her stomach churned when she came to a stop outside the room. She stalled for a moment, almost considering going home and coming back again later. No. She couldn’t. If she didn’t talk to Fallon now, she never would.

Kirby knocked lightly, her knuckles, now slightly bruised from her fight with the dumpling dough the day before, barely hitting the door. A shuffle came from behind the door. Fallon appeared ten seconds later. Her face broke into a tentative smile, and she stepped backward, allowing the redhead into the room. She said nothing, her silence suffocating. Kirby felt someone should say something - that  _ she _ should say something - but no words came to her. She needed Fallon to say something before she drowned in the soundlessness of the room.

They sat next to one another on the bed, their shoulders pressed together. Butterflies erupted in Kirby’s stomach as their bare arms touched and her face burned purple, realising how deprived she was of her girlfriend’s touch. She felt like she was fifteen again, and she prayed their hands would brush for that morsel of physical contact. It didn’t have to be that way, and she knew it. Fallon was her girlfriend. She shouldn’t have to take sitting too close to one another as affection.

“Hi,” Kirby choked out, crossing one leg over the other.

“Hey,” Fallon replied, turning her head to look at the redhead, the small smile still on her face. It looked genuine. Kirby couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her properly smile. God, how she missed it. Fallon never seemed to smile anymore. Not properly.

“I’m sorry about last night,” the redhead said, her eyes tracing the other woman’s features. Relearning them. She vowed to never forget them. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you over Darcy.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry for blowing up like that, both times. And leaving. I shouldn’t have left you in the state you’re in.”

What state was she in? What did that even mean? Kirby took a few seconds to process Fallon’s words, debating if it was worth asking what she meant and risking an argument, or ignoring them and stew on her own for a while later, when she was alone.

“I don’t think I know what you mean,” she said, almost deadpan. She didn’t know what had come over her. She didn’t want to fight. That wasn’t why she came here.

Fallon sighed, her disinterest in having the conversation they were about to have clear. “I meant that I feel bad for leaving you when you’re so low. I don’t know why I worded it like that.” she looked away, her eyes on the ceiling.

A crescendo of guilt crashed upon Kirby’s chest like cymbals, the reverberations vibrating down into her abdomen. Fallon didn’t have to watch her actions so she didn’t hurt the redhead. It wasn’t her job to make sure Kirby was coping. She was here to support her girlfriend, not babysit her.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it. You don’t have to treat me any differently. Please don’t. One of us would have gone into the guest room if we were at home. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

The brunette looked back again, crystal blue eyes meeting Kirby’s, searching deep for something. Kirby couldn’t blink, terrified to break their eye contact. Fallon closed her eyes and leant forward. The redhead swallowed hard, goose pimples emerging up and along her arms, and she met her girlfriend halfway.

It fell as flat as their kiss the morning of the funeral the day before. Kirby felt next to nothing as her lips slid against Fallon, desperate and waiting for sparks to dance in her diaphragm. They never did. And, while they pulled away breathless, she felt worse than she had before. They’d kissed a million times before and they’d all felt virtually the same. Something was wrong.

Kirby leaned it and kissed Fallon again. Hard. As though sheer force would bring any feeling to her. Her chest ached, and she hoped their sudden lack of chemistry was her general lack of feeling. That the brunette felt something.

“Do you want some coffee?” Fallon asked, wiping her mouth. She felt nothing, either.

Kirby shook her head, her fingers finding her lips and swiped Fallon’s lipstick from them. She crossed her legs under herself and bit the inside of her cheek. Her worst fears were coming true. This wasn’t working anymore. Kirby had always loved to run, and Fallon had always loved chasing her. Apparently, that had changed. She didn’t know when, but that didn’t matter now. It had already happened.

“Have you spoken to Darcy?” Fallon asked when she sat down next to Kirby again, cradling her coffee in her hands. She took a sip and reverted her gaze to the redhead expectantly.

Kirby shook her head. “No.”

The brunette nodded, smacking her lips together. “When do you think you’re coming home?” 

Too many questions.

“I don’t know,” Kirby replied, unable to bring herself to look at Fallon. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. They had plans for the future. A lump formed in the redhead’s throat, remembering the box in her underwear drawer back at the house. It looked like she would have to return it. None of their plans were going to work out.

“That’s okay! You can take as much time as you need. I can-”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t know if I’m going back to Atlanta at all.”

Fallon’s mild confusion morphed to borderline distress, splintering Kirby’s heart in half.

“You’re staying?”

The redhead nodded.

“What about school?” The brunette asked, sadness breaking into her voice.

“I dropped out before I left. There was no way I could have kept up while I was here.”

“Kirby! You’re only a year off your master’s, you can’t just give up!”

Kirby looked up to meet Fallon’s eyes again to find they were watering, mascara and eyeliner already smudging under them. This wasn’t fair.

“Just do it,” the redhead said, trying not to choke on her words. Her mind became an incoherent scramble. She didn’t want to do this, but she knew it was coming. It was bound to happen. It had to happen, and she hated it. They couldn’t pretend everything was fine much longer. They were on the razor’s edge of falling apart.

Fallon furrowed her brow and frowned, confusion clear on her face again. “What are you talking about?”

“Just break up with me. I know you’re going to, anyway. Just rip off the bandaid. Dragging this out will only hurt more.”

“I’m not breaking up with you! Why the hell would I want to break up with you? I love you. You’re my person; my one.”

“I think it’s for the best. This isn’t good for either of us, and I can tell you’re not happy either.”

Fallon scoffed, the bewilderment on her face intensified. She shook her head, as in disbelief, and wrapped her arms around herself, edging away from Kirby.

“You should have told me you weren’t happy! We can still work through this, we don’t have to break up. I don’t want us to. I _ am  _ happy!”

Kirby’s insides squirmed. This wasn’t the conversation she’d expected to have when she knocked on the door.

She’d thought this feeling was mutual. It  _ felt _ mutual. She didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to reconsider her thoughts. She couldn’t. They wouldn’t be able to work this out. They’d always let arguments fizzle out on their own without having a productive conversation about them. This one wouldn’t be any different, and this was a lot bigger than one of their petty arguments.

“You couldn’t be. How could you possibly be happy when I ghosted you for seven months? If you did that to me I’d hate you. I don’t understand how you’re still happy with our relationship.”

“Did you ignore me because you want me to break up with you?” Fallon’s face went from baffled to horrified in a heartbeat. Her frown fell slightly agape, and her eyes narrowed, dancing on the brink of glaring. “Is that what this is about? If you don’t want to be with me, you should have just said so.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you said!”   


“It’s not what I meant!” Kirby shouted, startling the brunette into scrambling backward.

Her girlfriend, if she could still call her that, cleared her throat and sat up straight again. “You never mean anything you say. You didn’t mean what you said about my mom the other day, you didn’t mean what you said about me when we were in Savannah. I bet you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me, either.”

“You know that isn’t true!”

“Do I? You don’t trust me! How come you were there when my mom left and when I got my appendix removed and I didn’t get back into school, yet I wasn’t there when you needed me most? Why won’t you let me be there for you? How are you supposed to love me if you don’t even trust me?”

So many questions.

Fallon’s words cut through Kirby like a knife twisting in her gut. It was true, and she hated it. She didn’t trust Fallon, but the brunette had never given her reason to. In the past, it had never been clear why she hadn't trusted her, but her girlfriend’s super-secret calls to this Michael person only perpetuated her distrust of Fallon.

“I do love you. More than anything,” Kirby said, her voice brittle. “But I don’t think that’s enough anymore. This isn’t working anymore - we’re not working anymore. We haven’t worked in months.”

“And that’s my fault? I wasn’t the one who cut off contact because she couldn’t handle things!”

A few seconds passed. If Kirby had said that, she would have taken it back now. Claimed she hadn’t meant it and apologised. Fallon didn’t. It was justified. The redhead didn’t even protest.

“I’m aware this is my fault. And, I’m sorry it has to end this way, but I can’t do this anymore.”

Fallon’s phone buzzed from the nightstand. Neither of them moved.

“Is that Michael?” the redhead said, anger burning slick and hot at the back of her throat. She gained morbid confidence as she remembered. “Please, enlighten me. Who is Michael? How long have you been together?”

“Culhane. Michael is a friend. I’m not cheating on you,” Fallon said quickly, her ears turning pink, nostrils flaring. “You know what? Maybe this isn’t working.”

Neither of them said anything for a long time. They still sat next to one another, and their shoulders still pressed firmly together, but this time animosity filled the room instead of lovesickness. 

Kirby recoiled into herself, her conscience screaming at her for being a terrible girlfriend. She ignored it. She didn’t know why. She felt horrible, but Fallon needed out of this relationship. Fallon’s fingers fidgeted between them, and the frustration with the situation swelled in Kirby’s chest. She hated every second of this. But it was only fair.

She looked up again to find Fallon looking at her, studying her. Silent tears tread their course down her face, disturbing her foundations and dragging eyeliner down with it. Her eyes were bluer when she cried. Kirby had never noticed before.

“I guess that’s it then,” she said, standing from the bed and taking a step forward. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” the brunette said, spluttering slightly. Kirby could practically hear her heart breaking. Fallon uncrossed her arms and put her head in her hands, sighing loudly. 

Kirby turned around again, her legs shaky beneath her and her left one asleep. She took one last look at her now ex-girlfriend before going to the door. She said nothing when Fallon followed her, or when she pulled her into the room again and hugged her from behind, clinging to her body like it provided her oxygen. Kirby ignored her for her own sanity and shut the door behind her, leaving the redhead in the empty hallway. She wished she’d said goodbye, but she wasn’t sure she could speak without falling apart at the seams.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t compel herself to move for over ten minutes. She leant against the door, listening to Fallon sob on the other side. She sounded like she did when Alexis left and when she didn’t get back into college for her master's degree and when Kirby’s father found out about their relationship. Kirby felt nothing. Her whole body was numb - not that that was new. But this was for the best.

She went back to her car, her body devoid of feeling. She sat in the driver’s seat, staring out the windscreen, pushing herself to cry or scream - anything but sit there blankly. She was so tired of not feeling anything. She ached to feel  _ something _ . She took a deep breath and rested her head on the steering wheel, trying to stop her mind from racing. It didn’t work. Nothing ever worked. 

They were supposed to be together forever. Apparently, their forever was five and a half years. It felt too permanent to end up temporary. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

* * *

  
  


_ Fallon listened to the voicemail again, trying to pick out anything out of the ordinary; something off in the tone of her voice. Something to tell her why Kirby wasn’t answering her texts or returning her calls. Anything. But, she sounded fine. She sounded like she always did. Nothing seemed wrong. What the hell was going on? _

_ Kirby had sent it over a month ago now. That was the last time she’d heard from her girlfriend, despite her best efforts to talk to her. It was as if she’d fallen off the face of the earth. _

_ “Hi, babe! It’s Kirby! I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I miss you terribly! I hope you’re doing well! I just have to take my mum to an appointment and then I’ll call you. Text me when you get this. I love you to the moon and back. Bye!” _

  
  



End file.
